Microstory 2245: Complaint to You

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I had lunch with my old friends today. It was my former assistant, who replaced me at the jail, and my former parole officer. At first, I thought that Leonard was being respectful by ordering a vegetarian meal, but as it turns out, I inspired him to become a vegetarian. I’m really happy about that, and I hope the trend continues, if only due to the fear of a prion disease. They ran a full investigation of the restaurant where I allegedly (I legally have to say it like that) ate contaminated meat, and they were unable to find evidence of further contamination. So you should be able to eat there again if you want, in case you were waiting for an answer regarding that problem. I guess I should have said something earlier. Anyway, the meal we had today was great, and I enjoyed the company. It was nice to be out in public again, even though men in suits were standing at the ready. I always wanted to be famous, but important—like a politician would be—is a different concept. Someone like that is a target. I did not want it to be like this. I knew there was a chance that I may end up with a stalker or two, but not that everyone I saw was a potential threat. People were staring, not only because it was me, but because I was clearly under protection. Fortunately, it didn’t get any worse than that. I’m not one to advertise my location, so it didn’t draw a big crowd, or anything, but I fear that this might start happening if the media begins to track my movements. Maybe I should just stay home all the time, and never show my face. That may sound like a complaint to you, but it doesn’t sound like one to me. There are worse ways to live, believe you me. Speaking of which, we still haven’t gotten word on whether my offer on the house has been approved. Even if it is, it will still take some time to complete all the paperwork, and whathaveyou. Until next week, goodbye.

Microstory 2147: That I Hate You

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I’ve lived here for—how long have I lived here for—I don’t remember, and I don’t want to look it up. As usual, I didn’t bother meeting my neighbors. This isn’t ever some kind of intentional effort on my part, where I avoid them like the plague. It’s not that I think that we won’t get along, though let’s be fair, we probably won’t. It’s just that I don’t give it much thought. The first day when I move into a new place, I’m busy doing that. The second day is about figuring out how my daily behavior is going to change. The next few days are about implementing those changes, seeing what works, and rethinking accordingly. After that, I’ve established a routine, and while I can alter it as necessary, I pretty much stick to what I know until it becomes too inconvenient, and I have to come up with new solutions. Other people don’t factor into it unless they were a part of it before, such as my family back on my homeworld. Meeting people is not something that I’ve ever been interested in. I’ve tried to ask a number of neurotypicals what the point of getting to know new friends is. Not one of them has been able to explain why exactly they like it. They act like it’s a biological imperative, like eating, or propagating the species. And it’s true to some degree. Evolution favors life-preserving traits, and humans have survived through tribal collaboration. But that’s not really what that is, is it? The only tribe that I need is currently around five billion strong. If I need a coat, I know where to go. If I need help getting a door open because my hands are full, someone nearby will likely oblige. I wouldn’t expect to have to foster some strong relationship with that person. In fact, if true connection is something that they required before helping in such a small way, we would all probably consider them not that great of a person. I’m not going to become friends with people just so they’ll open the door for me, because I don’t want to be associated with someone who won’t open the door for a stranger. My point is that whatever joy you experience by getting to know others is not inherent to your survival, which means that it is not necessarily universal. To be sure, it’s not even true for me, and I’m sure there are plenty of others. It doesn’t make us misanthropic hermits either. I think it’s perfectly reasonable for a beekeeper to only want to be friends with other beekeepers, for instance. Of course, this kind of mentality has the potential to lead to prejudice and otherism, but it doesn’t have to. I’m not a beekeeper, I’m just me. My interests don’t align well with others. For one, the things that I used to love don’t exist in this universe, such as Stargate. But also, loving Stargate has never been my entire identity, and I didn’t find myself enjoying being in the company of other fans, for reasons that I won’t get into. I think that I just don’t want to be around people who are like me any more than I want to be around people who aren’t like me. Again, it’s not that I hate you; it’s just that that’s not how I choose to live in the world. Anyway, my neighbor suddenly invited me to dinner tonight, so we’ll see how that goes.

Microstory 1590: Isolated

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Prompt

I have the ability to feel other people’s pain, but I can’t do anything about it, so I’ve moved out to the middle of nowhere, and plan to avoid people as much as possible.

Botner

Not just to protect myself, but also to help the curse on my life disappear as soon as I can. I’m stuck here, in the middle of nowhere, by my lonesome. No one knows where I am. And that scares me more than I can explain, as it means that they’re all waiting for me to turn up again, and either find me or confront me. I’m not good at hiding things. I have a very bad conscience. It feels as if my chest would burst from the weight of what I’ve been through. But I’m not alone in the house, or in the hills. I have a loving cousin who understands my curse, and who has promised to hide me and help me as much as he can. I have friends, too, who believe in me and who I can talk to about anything. I feel my power is growing, too. I’m seeing power in objects around me that wasn’t there before, and my curse is helping it happen. It’s getting harder to hide. I’m only hiding myself because it’s safer than talking to my neighbors, who think I’m a dangerous psychopath. Even though I’m not. With...

Conclusion

...everything going on in the world right now, I should look quite normal as a hermit, but you know people, they talk. For the last week, my satellite internet has been down, and I don’t know how to fix it myself. I keep trying to force myself to go into town to get some help, but I just can’t do it. It hurts too much. Now that I know how much easier life is when there’s no one around to mess with my feelings and senses, I can’t go back to how it was. I don’t want to spend another minute around another person. My cousin hasn’t attempted to come help me, even though I missed our weekly video chat check-in. He’s given up, as have my friends. I look around the cabin for something to do, but I didn’t bring a whole lot of entertainment with me, because I was intending to stay connected to the world virtually. Another week goes by, and I still haven’t worked up the courage to seek help. I have, however, given the simple life a real shot. My garden is blooming, and I am loving the long walks I take through the woods. Maybe I don’t need the internet at all. Even without my curse forcing me into it, maybe this is the best life I could have asked for. Right now, I’m farther from my home than I ever have been before, and it turns out I’m pretty close to some campgrounds. I hear music in the distance, but there’s only one tent within my pain-sensing range. It must be empty, though, because I’m not feeling any pain, emotional or physical. I turn back, glad that I didn’t run into anyone else, when a woman appears from around the bend, holding a stack of firewood. It’s amazing, I don’t feel anything but serenity, love, and joy from her. I don’t know if that means she isn’t feeling any pain, or there’s just something different about her. I wonder what my life could be life if we were together, just me and her. I would no longer have to be alone, and my curse wouldn’t matter anymore. She smiles at me politely, completely unaware of how incredibly magnificent she is, and how great it feels just to be around her. I can’t tell her, either. She wouldn’t understand, and it would just make her uncomfortable. All I can do is tip my hat, walk past her, and move on with my life without ever seeing her again.